Angel Dust

[Shit, look at him. He looks crazed, (in the best way possible), and an absolute mess with that stained muzzle. It makes Angel laugh and try to twist to see just how chewed up he is, and he pauses to steal a kiss, tasting that blood and adding some matching stains round his own mouth.

He flushes at the answer, thinking it sounds like something out one of his favourite Hell-a-Novellas, not the sort of line usually fed to him.]

Right this second I'm kinda wishin' your teeth were made a angelic steel so these would scar. [And later he might be wishing inmate bathrooms came with showers.] I want make those wings flap, Daddy. Like I said before. Wanna see how well the porn critic performs. [All recent call backs to Angel, but maybe Husk remembers that day as clearly as Angel does.]